Fixation
by datsickboi
Summary: fix·a·tion fikˈsāSH(ə)n/ noun 1. an obsessive interest in or feeling about someone or something.
1. Chapter 1

The first time I met Jonathan Crane, I was only sixteen whilst he was twenty-seven.

He was one of my father's colleges at Arkham, a well esteemed doctor. Admired for his accomplishes for such a young age, he was well respected and trusted in many communities, precisely why, after my mother died my father appointed his as my therapist.

It's safe to say that I found no trust in my father's colleges, especially after the madness of Harleen Quinnzel was revealed, but if it was what was wished from me I would do it.

"But sir, I do not require therapy." My father was always a strict man, and even though deep down I knew he loved me, his brisk and cold nature caused me to act out as to gain a reaction from the emotionless man.

"For the last time, Dove, this is non-negotiable. You have been struggling due to recent circumstances, and this will get you back on track."

I scoffed, ' _recent circumstances'_ was his way of referring to the death of my mother, his wife.

She developed lung cancer at the ripe old age of forty-two due to her addiction to nicotine.

Therefore, from the age of fourteen to sixteen I got to witness my mother wither away to only a shell of her former self. Whilst my father busied himself in his work, I switched between my education and being my mother's caretaker.

But on May 15th at exactly 2:56 a.m. I was relinquished from my duties as my mother passed away.

I remember sobbing while curled up to her as she took her final few, wheezing breaths, her final words being those that reminded me of her love for me.

The moment it all happened, was one I would never forget, as our live-in nurse called it and my father just nodded, still keeping all emotion off his face.

I think that was when I began resenting the man who raised me, when he refused to bat an eye at the corpse of the woman he had sworn to love.

That's when I began lashing out in self destructive ways, not eating, not sleeping, and burying myself in the artwork that had already awarded me several scholarships.

Of course, it took my father three months to even notice my distancing myself, but sure enough the brilliant psychiatrist noticed the problem right under his nose.

That is why now, five months after the passing of my mother, I was being forced to see a stranger and share my darkest feelings with him.

"Please Dove," I could hear his exasperation, "Don't make this any harder than necessary. We are lucky Dr. Crane even accepted you as a patient.

I nodded in defat, knowing I had no choice in the matter.

I suspected Dr. Crane to be a decrepit older man, one with much experience and a kind smile, but that was not what I got.

The first thing I noticed about the doctor was his youthful age, he was in the mid-range of his twenties and it took me by surprise that my dad would trust someone so young with what he deemed to be his prodigy daughter's crumbling mental health.

The second thing I noticed was his eyes.

There were no appropriate words to describe the man's eyes. The closest color I could think of to compare them to would be cerulean. They were the color of crystal clear oceans and they shifted as the waves would, a color I would spend many hours attempting to match perfectly.

At first I compared them to winter, cold and calculating, starving and predatory. He was the beast and he stalked you with only his gaze, a gaze that seemed to know everything about you.

As time passed though, I grew to understand there was more to uncover in those eyes. At first I thought they were like my father, void of any emotion, but I later learned that it was just because the emotion was there, it was just hidden behind his cold demeanor.

Those eyes are what drew me in and pushed me out at the same time. I thought he was beautiful, causing me to develop a small crush on him, and I just had so much love to give ever since my only outlet, my mother, had been taken away from me.

Perhaps that was why I fell so easily into the trap with absolutely no regard for caution.

I was just an insecure little girl who longed for any attention shown her way, and he just so happened to throw me a bone, one that I now wished I had never gone after, a bone that led to an unhealthy obsession and insane possessiveness.

Many nights afterwards I considered regretting all my choices, but then when I saw him again it was all clear again.

Those damn eyes had me.

fixation


	2. Chapter 2

It was safe to say our first meeting didn't go as smoothly as my father hoped it would have.

I didn't like the way Dr. Crane stared at me.

His look stated that he thought I was wasting his time and brains. It was clear that he thought his talents were better suited for the criminally insane, rather than a snot nosed sixteen year old who was just a little put out by her current situation.

Little did he know the feeling was mutual.

My father watched on as we greeted one another coolly, neither of us wanting to lose the upper hand by appearing the weaker of the situation.

I quickly noted how handsome he was, but refused to back down to some pretty boy.

"Pleasure to meet you Dove, I am Doctor Crane."

"The pleasure is all mine."

My tone was blatantly dry which Dr. Crane seemed to notice, but my father completely missed.

We stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment before I gathered enough strength to turn to my father, "I do not feel this will be a private conversation with you here."

He nodded respectfully before turning on his heel and exiting.

I waited until I was sure he was gone, holding my breath before releasing it in a large sigh.

My posture immediately back more relaxed as I slouched down and pulled my hair from the tight bun I commonly wore around my father, instead letting I fall largely over my shoulders.

I could feel the stress lines on my forehead becoming more prudent as I slouched down onto the chair provided.

Dr. Crane was watching me the whole time, mentally noting my change in attitude.

He continued to watch on as I drew my Kurt Vonnegut book from the satchel I had draped over the back of the chair.

I wasn't surprised that he said nothing to me, as there was a silent understanding that both of us had better things to do then deal with one another in this hour-long period that my father had scheduled for 'counseling'.

It was relieving that the doctor was just as disinterested in talking about me as I was, it would be significantly harder to shake an interested man.

I felt Dr. Crane's eyes on me multiple times throughout the hour as I skimmed through my novel and he filled out what I assume to be paperwork, though for all I know it was a personality quiz to determine his perfect shade of lip gloss.

When my phone buzzed to signal that fifty minutes had passed, I gently closed my book and put it back in my satchel before clearing my throat to get Dr. Crane's attention.

When his eyes met mine I was encapsulated for a moment before I cleared my throat again.

"My father will be curious as to how this session went, and I know he will disregard any form of doctor patient confidentiality, so we might want to come up with a story."

He nodded slightly, his agreement clear.

"So what do you suggest?"

His voice was smooth and somewhat deep, matching him perfectly somehow.

"Tell him I refused to talk at first but I eventually opened up to you about how I was feeling a little lonely lately and how I missed my mother."

He nodded, again in acknowledgement clearly disinterested in the subject but wanting to please my father at the same time.

"That'll do."

I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion. Didn't he want to hear the rest of the plan?

"I see you're confused, but I don't need any instruction on how to deal with your father. You're easy to read Miss Erdos and let's be honest in saying your father is fairly oblivious to the things in his whole life, especially those things involving his daughter."

His words pissed me off, causing me to bristle slightly and glare in his direction, "You don't know anything about me."

Amusement danced in those cold eyes as he leaned further onto his desk, his elbows propping him up, "I know you come from a wealthy family and you have never wanted anything, besides your father's attention. You're a people pleaser and a pushover, a little girl without a backbone. You're mother was you're only real friend and when she died you were left like a lost puppy. I assume you're a prodigy of some sort, probably a musician or writer, something heartfelt, and all you want is the attention and love your father never gave you."

I must have looked like a fish fresh out of water as I gapped at the man in front of me.

"Did I miss anything?"

I wish I was brave and strong, enough so that I could spit fiery words back at him in hopes of cutting him in the way he had just cut me, but nothing of the sort came out.

Instead my next word came out more as a whisper, "Painting."

He let a small grin grow on his face as he clapped his hands together once, "Of course."

I tugged on the sleeves of my jacket. Uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare, I was grateful when in the next moment the door swung open to reveal my father.

"So I assume the session went well?"

Dr. Crane stood up with a forced smile, approaching my father to shake his hand, "I certainly think so, we are beginning to get somewhere."

I hopped from foot to foot distractedly as I held back whimpers as I thought back to his harsh words. I didn't understand why he felt he had to be so mean to me.

The sound of my father clearing his throat brought my attention back up.

"Why is your hair down Dove, it's not very becoming of you to look so wild."

Embarrassed, especially by the smirk on Dr. Crane's face, I pulled my hair back into the tight ponytail I arrived in.

"Sorry father."

He nodded approvingly before turning on his heels and leaving me to follow with my head down whilst Dr. Crane's eyes burned holes in my back.


	3. Chapter 3

The second and the third session weren't much more beneficial than the first one.

If anything, I was getting worse.

I didn't want to admit to my own fragility, but the cruel words of Dr. Crane were getting to me, and the fact that I had no one to fall back onto didn't help much.

Even though at first I was adamant that my sadness was only to with my mother's passing, the way it seemed to stretch out into a never-ending emotion, warned me otherwise.

But I had always been a happy person.

It almost felt unreal, the change.

For the next month, my condition worsened until it got to the point where I wouldn't do anything, not even those activities that I used to find joy in doing.

My paints had gathered a thin layer of dust and my canvases remained cased in plastic an odd sight, all my recently purchased books remained un opened.

I barely ate, just enough to keep me alive, but my cheeks were slowly hollowing out as my eyes took in a more sunken in appearance.

Of course, my father took little note to all the changes, too encased in his own private world.

It wasn't until my fourth therapy session that the penny finally dropped.

I stopped fighting after the second session. I didn't even bother to bring a book to the third session, instead choosing to stare at the wall across the room for the entirety of an hour.

For this session, I had chosen to wear one of my mother's old sweaters, hoping my father would notice, but that was wishful thinking.

He didn't bat a single eyelash when I got into the car. The ride was silent and uncomfortable for both of us, I wasn't sure when we had become strangers but it was apparent that we were.

He dropped me off in front of Dr. Crane's office, saying something about some paperwork he had to finish up.

I silently entered his office, my head down as I refused to meet my doctor's eyes.

No sound escaped my lips as I made my way to the chair, silently sitting and pulling my knees to my chest as I stared at the clock that adorned the wall, letting out a small breath as the clock hit twelve, only an hour left.

I sat there counting silently until exactly thirty-seven minutes and forty-six seconds in when Dr. Crane abruptly stood.

The creak of his chair brought my eyes up to his towering figure. I had never realized how tall he was.

I was petit at the height of 5'4 so he would have to look down at me in a normal situation, but in the current circumstances he seemed to be almost impossibly tall.

His calculating eyes stared into my wary ones

"You haven't been eating, have you?"

I was taken aback, for his words were ones of concern, but his tone remained cold and barren of any emotion.

My shrug was non-committal, not giving a definite answer to his question.

"How long?"

Another shrug was his only answer.

I could tell my lack of an articulate answer was beginning to annoy him, but I hadn't spoken in two weeks and I was worried that if I tried it would come out as nothing more than a whisper, which in all honesty was worse than not speaking at all.

The growl that escaped him took me by surprise and the second he began to make his way around the desk, I shot out of my seat and backed away from him. I matched him step for step, for every inch he moved forward I moved back.

I couldn't help the gasp that escaped when my back hit a wall. It was stupid of me to assume that this could go on forever.

It was impossible to miss the dark glint in his eyes and the smirk on his face.

It only took two strides for him to reach me.

He was close, too close. So close in fact, that I could feel his warm breath on both my throat and ear.

"What is it Dove? Are you afraid of me?"

The little whimper that escaped my lips was answer enough.

"Oh my little dove there's nothing to fear from me." His fingers were long and spindly as they ran across my face and through my hair as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Please."

It came out as no more than a whisper, so quiet that even I could barely hear it.

He only laughed in response, leaning in closer as his thumb passed over my lips.

For a second I felt an absence of his touch and I shivered at the slight cool that took over the empty space.

I was hopeful in thinking he had moved, so I opened my eyes slightly just to be met with his intense gaze and I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I never got the chance.

The second I opened my mouth I was met by his lips.

The shock from the suddenness of it all caused my eyes to fully open and my mouth to open more allowing his access inside.

He took his opportunity as his tongue entered my mouth.

I couldn't hold back the small moan as my eyes fluttered shut and my arms flew around his neck.

He didn't taste of much, mostly old coffee, but for some reason it was the most wonderful thing I had ever tasted.

I don't know how long he kissed me for but it was long enough for me to run out of breath.

He was the first to pull back, just as he was the one to initiate the kiss.

I could practically hear my heart beating out of my chest as we both fought for air, my hands fell to his jacket as I grabbed a fistful to steady myself.

He lifted up his wrist to check his watch and it was as if he were suddenly a different person.

He pulled away from me, straightening out his suit before heading back to his desk and going back to his work.

I stood in the same spot shell shocked, until I heard a knock on the door and my father entered.

"Ah Dove, Jonathan, I see you are already done in here."

Dr. Crane didn't even look up as he nodded, a sign that he wanted us to leave.

So I did.

I was still in shock, my fingers reaching up to touch my bruised lips as thought about his name, Jonathan.

I had just made out with a man, not only eleven years older than me, but also one I had not known the name of until seconds ago.

Regardless of all that I smiled for the first time in weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

The fifth session was my favorite.

Still is when I think about it.

I didn't know what it was about him that drew me in in such a way but I knew I didn't want it to go away.

That evening, after the fourth session, I went home back to the house and I immediately dusted off my art supplies.

It wasn't to make a piece of artwork.

I spent hours sitting in front of my easel, mixing the oil paints hoping for the perfect shade.

By the end of the night the canvas was swatched in many different shades of blue, ranging from light to dark, but no matter how many colors I mixed, I just couldn't get it right.

For the first time in weeks I showed my first real emotion besides sadness and fear, frustration.

I hadn't realized I was crying until I noticed the droplets of water on my canvas. I was crying tears of pure frustration and it just felt amazing.

It had been a couple months since I had cried, not since my mother, and it just felt euphoric to release all my pent-up emotions. It felt even better when I smashed my canvas that held my inadequacies.

The breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding forced its way out of my lungs and it was with that breath that I realized how much I missed feeling.

I tried to get out of the fifth session, even attempting to feign a migraine, but my father just made me pop a pain reliever and suck it up.

I suspected the session would be an uncomfortable one, so I instead opted to drive myself, hoping for any reason to stall.

There was no way I could skip the session, my father would know, so, begrudgingly, I made my way up the steps of Arkham Asylum.

The woman at the front desk didn't even bother to point me in the correct direction, we both knew I was aware of where I was going.

I tried to stretch out the minutes, purposely making myself late, hoping to get some sort of rise out of him.

When I reached his office, I stopped to take a breath, instead focusing on the cool of the door knob.

It took all my strength to push the door open.

At first his office seemed empty, until I stepped in.

The second I was two steps in I heard the door behind me shut, and I spun around at a breakneck speed to see Dr. Crane staring down at me, a disappointed look scrawled across his face.

"You look worried." He noted.

It was impossible to hold back my scoff, "Ya think?"

The calculating look in his eye sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to take a step away to distance us, but his large hand had no problem completely encasing my wrist.

With a single tug, I was brought against his chest with and arm wrapped securely around my waist.

"I thought you weren't going to show up."

The breathy tone of his voice caused a second shiver to travel down my spine as his thumb carefully ran over the bone of my hip.

"I didn't want to," was my response.

He frowned at my response, making me desperately wish I could take back my words just to appease him, but I couldn't, more importantly I refused to.

"Before a week ago, you were nothing but cruel to me. You taunted me constantly and said some terribly awful things so you'll have to excuse me if I'm not terribly excited to come back here."

His only response was a noncommittal shrug.

This action caused a second scoff from me. I don't know what it was, perhaps it was the moment we shared at our previous session, but whatever it was had led me to believe that the man before me held some sort of emotion.

Clearly, I was wrong, and that pissed me off.

At this point his grip had loosened enough that I was able to tear myself away from his grasp, and giving me time to ponder over the option of leaving right then and there.

The thought of Jonathan snitching to my father was enough to make me scrap that idea immediately.

I instead opted for collapsing in my usual seat and crossing my arms over my chest.

Now when I think back at it, this must have only further instilled my place as a child in his mind, but I was naive to the effect of my actions at the time being.

He seemed to take my actions as a sort of submission, which it sort of was, as he made his way to the other side of the desk and placed himself with his chin resten on his folded hands, his eyes stuck on my facial features.

His cold gaze seemed to scrutinize my features, but no sign on approval or disgust made itself known.

"So, Miss Erdos, what has transpired in this past week?"

It was his turn to attempt to get a rise out of me.

Determined to play his childish game as well as he dis I leaned back in my chair with a shrug.

"I've been thinking about death a lot lately, and what it means to die." My voice trembled at the end of my sentence, and I mentally cursed myself for allowing myself to appear weak and nimble.

If I hadn't been paying attention I would have missed the look of displaced anger on his face before it transitioned back into a cool indifference.

"And may I ask, why have you been feeling such thoughts?"

Another shrug.

"I suppose it's because I keep contemplating how simpler it would be."

"What would be?"

We both already knew the answer to his question.

I inhaled sharply, "No need to fear though, I would never be able to bring myself to go through with it."

"And why is that Miss Erdos?"

"I'm too afraid."

Silence encompassed the room, a dark, uncomfortable cloud settling over us, drowning us.

He shot up from his seat so quickly, I hadn't even begun to process what had happened when he was already around the desk pulling my to my feet, roughly I may add.

In a second I was against the wall, identical to how I had been the week previous, trapped.

He lowered his face down so it hovered over my own upturned one, mine being held up by his fingers. His eyes stared deeply into mine, a cold look overcoming them as they encapsulated mine in their penetrating gaze.

"Good."

I sucked in sharply, "Good?"

"Yes, good."

Before I could speak again he was across the room and out the door, leaving me winded and completely lost.


End file.
